Arozand Oronir

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 Arozand Oronir
Identification portrait
The Headhunter
Gender Male
Race Au Ra
Clan Xaela
Citizenship Independent
Place of Birth The Dawn Throne, Azim Steppes
Guardian Althyk, The Keeper
Nameday 21st Sun of the 4th Astral Moon
(Age: 32)
Occupation Adventurer, Ronin, Slayer of Monsters
Pronunciation "AH-row-zand OH-row-near"

Arozand calls nowhere home and knows no origin to find pride upon. Though faint memories linger of his childhood in the motherland of his kin, the Azim Steppe is nothing to him but a distant beginning that only filled his young life with pain and tribulation. He knows that struggle and hustle are the elements of success and that everyone can be bought for the right price, whether by service or commodity.

From the ripe age of ten, Arozand knew that nothing in this world would save him except himself. The Ruby Sea and the Far Eastern coasts became his home, the life of a street-rat making ends meet by crumb or coin was all he knew as his roots sunk deep in delinquent occupation. Learning to fend for himself was simple enough given the power that coursed through every sinew of his muscles, yet his true challenge came to the mind as he honed his wit and sharpened his tongue against every whetstone of danger that he could find. More often homeless than not, a milestone of change came on one fateful day surviving and hunting in the woods of Yanxia...


"Everything hurts and I just want a nap." —Arozand Oronir

Arozand has no home, a lone wolf of the wild.

Towering above most Eorzeans at seven fulms and one ilm with around 300 ponze of muscle, bone, and scale wrapped up beneath sun-soaked bronze skin, Arozand tends to frighten most he comes across before grinning at their fear with a jagged show of wicked teeth. The life of a Ronin leaves his thick frame stocked with strength from head to toe, his flesh rounded and broad with a wide Adonis' belt aside his hips and more than enough to love on a handsome Xaela male. Almost fitting given his tribal origin, mottled patches of subtle gold and bronze scales fleck the mass of natural obsidian armor patterned over his skin. Most of this unique pigmentation occurs on his torso and arms, yet a tapering pattern of the dark gradient is present on his cheeks and jaw.

Either stoic or smirking with malice, Arozand is often seen with a dour squint or a diabolical stare of his golden-ringed eyes. An almost indiscernible set of earth-brown irises rest within his glowing gaze, only visible in directly light. Thick brows and wide features adorn his face with fine contours, spots of scales and dark tattoos around his eyes only adding to his roguish appeal. The bright faith of the Oronir seems to run through Arozand's veins in a poetic manifestation of fire and gold, yet ironically given his lack of Xaela culture or knowledge of his peoples' beliefs.

Heavy, smooth, and wavy locks of black hair wash over Arozand's scalp as if dark waves crested with brown cascade back over his head. He gathers them into a long braid at the back of his head which curls around his neck and hangs over his chest. Arozand keeps himself clean and styled if not charmingly unkempt. His primary set of horns jut forward aside the forehead, opposite of the in-game appearance and much like a Behemoth's with a single ram's curl from the roots which leaves his face entirely open.

Years of wilderness survival and fighting in general, both with fists and the blade, have left his knuckles and fingers rugged and leathery with wear. Skin fades from one complexion to the next when it comes to his palms. Scars roll over his swollen bones like a tattered battlefield, his palms impressed with deep lines and wrinkles. He keeps them wrapped or gloved, hiding away his gnarled hands and the milestones of violence they've struck through across his life.

Arozand's voice flows in a deep bass which matches his size and appearance. Stern and unyielding as iron, he seems to fight with the Eorzean tongue with every other word as his guttural Xaela accent wraps tight around everything he says. Through his exchanges of conversation, he speaks what he means and tends to wear his heart on a sleeve which make for loud and intimidating bursts of emotion inspired from the core of his being and bellowed out through those dark lips.

His torso and arms are covered in Hingan tattoos; mostly depictions of Oni and clouds on his back with Kami and ocean waves on his chest. His arms have red blossoms and fish scale patterns down to the elbows. Across his collarbones and trapezius muscles are Hingan characters spelling 'Black Hawk' on the former and 'Steel Wind' on the latter.


Casual Wear:

* Form-fitting gambeson or a loose sleeveless shirt
* Sturdy gauntlets, fingerless or simple cloth handwraps
* Faded leather pants or baggy harem pants
* Barefoot, footwraps, or boots
* Carved wooden armillae, engraved iron ring, Immortal Flames dog tags, cord of thick braided hair around the wrist

Arms and Armor:

The wayward Ronin suits up in a custom set of armor and wields an augmented ōdachi aspected to the fire of his aether.
Arozand's battlegear is composed of thick cloth, drake hide and steel for maximum defense in support of his powerful arts of war. A thick black coat fits snug beneath his breastplate and hangs down around his legs, fitted with a number of ornaments and belts for equipment storage as well as a sidearm tomahawk for when a swift and stealthy blade is needed near or far. Steel gauntlets protect his hands and arms, the same metal and style worn as sabatons and greaves around his feet and legs. His colors of black and gold mark him as a former Immortal Flames soldier, symbolized again in the pair of dog tags fastened around the width of his belt. No longer beholden to loyalty, the wild hunter wanders and intimidates wherever he goes with his vicious presentation of a Far Eastern monster slayer.
The most interesting feature out of all his equipment is the massive ōdachi sheathed on his back and wrapped from guard to tip in linen as if mummified. The great sword befits his size, of standard length for him yet incredibly massive for anyone else of smaller stature. Wielded once by a woman far greater than he could ever hope to be and forged by the blood, sweat, and tears of that heroic figure, Arozand's only sense of honor is in his blade as he strives to uphold its purpose and origin in a way most might never understand. To him, the spirit of his better lives on through every cut and stroke of skill and strength. Strange, eastern designs stretch up and down the blade with a flowing, chaotic hamon resembling tongues of patterned fire forged into the folded steel.
Basic Info
Date of Birth: 21st Sun of the Fourth Astral Moon, Year 1549, Sixth Astral Era (32 years old)
Height: Tall (7'4")
Weight: Heavyweight, muscular (~300 ponze)
Complexion: Bronze, tawny
Hair: Long, thick, wavy, black and brown with an extensive braid hanging over his shoulder and chest.
Eyes: Dark brown irises with lambent golden rings around them.
Particular Traits: Extra thick brows. Laugh lines. Backward horns (Face 2 + Face 4 = Arozand). Long indigo tongue and an extensive, robust tail hanging down to his ankles. Mottled patches of iridescent copper and gold patterned over his masses of black scales.
Voice: Rugged bass, often unpleasant
Clothing Style: Modern Eorzean or Far Eastern, often with skin showing.
Laterality: Right-handed


Exploring the frontiers of Hydaelyn
Hunting down dangerous monsters, beasts, and mysterious creatures
Showing off his skills
Random duels
The admiration of others
People who challenge him in some way; competence
Possessing novelties and rare items
Spicy, exotic, and sweet foods
Humid, cool days in Gridania
Reading about history, war, and love
Buffalo and wolves
People who whine about their problems
People who sacrifice their freedom
Not being rewarded for his services
Dry or bitter foods
Being disrespected
Miqo'te men
People who abuse animals or children
Food: Tonkkatsu ramen, spicy sushi, shorlog
Drink: Rum, honey mead, sake, hot chocolate
Colours: Black ink, blue sky, green forest, red blood, golden sand
Place: The Black Shroud
Festival: All Saints' Wake
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Vices: Smoking, drinking, pretty women
Religion: Impious


Compulsive addictions
Dark magic
Growing old and useless
Being left behind
Extraordinary strength and speed.
Extensive knowledge of the body's vulnerable points, can cut a soldier down with minimal effort and still leave him breathing.
Innate understanding of beasts and beastkin.
Boasts a powerful infusion of fire and earth-aspected aether.
Extremely perceptive.
The Big Guy
Bouncing Battler
Big Fucking Sword
Achilles' Heel
Red Eyes, Take Warning
Death Glare
Rebellious Spirit
Men Can't Keep House
Badges and Dog Tags
Hitman With a Heart
Badass Teacher
Don't Call Me Sir
Though often coming off as dull and unintelligent given his single-minded passion and brusque approach to life, Arozand boasts an education of practical experience gained through the years of his life of urban and frontier survival. He knows how to survive and endure as well as how to ensure the longevity of his comrades and won't shy away from learning new things if it means improving these skills. The Xaela's hunger for knowledge is one of the greatest motivations in his life as he seeks to hone what he knows and deliberately understand whatever he does not. The struggles of his beginnings force his mind to become a sponge for information and his rare, piecemeal intellect only flourishes for it. Basic evocations of magic are also not beyond his reach, his innate yet unnatural manipulation of aether a side-effect of secrets few are aware of.
Other Game Characters: Geralt of Rivia (The Witcher), Kratos (God of War IV), Rengar (League of Legends), Bayek (Assassin's Creed Origins)
Anime Characters: Guts (Berserk), Devilman (Devilman Crybaby), Kisame Hoshigaki (Naruto), Hit (Dragon Ball Super) Yami (Black Clover)

Abilities and Skills

Physical strength
Physical endurance
Combat strategy
Hunting and tracking
Unarmed fists
Throwing weapons
Inner Beast
Crude aether manipulation

Family and Relationships

Khaidu Oronir (Father, Unknown)
Tumun Oronir(Ejinn) (Mother, Deceased)
Aruci Oronir (Sister, Unknown)
Friends and Acquaintances
A number of beast-men tribes
A number of monetarists in the Syndicate
Hingan Yakuza
A lot of pirates


Adventurers' Guild
Clan Centurio
Immortal Flames (Special Forces)
Pugilists' Guild


Note: This section is editable by anyone. Just keep in mind that the rumors here may be both true or false.

“You should see him fight. Just imagine it—the strength of those barbar—erm, noble warriors of the Steppe, wielded with the skill of a true Samurai! I never would have imagined it possible!” — Unkempt Doman Village Girl

"They say he's a mutant, a freak, some kind of hunter that chews up his kills before turning them in for coin. Can you imagine them letting him in our cities?! He should be locked up and kenneled like an animal if he acts like one!" — Isghardian Soldier at the Forgotten Knight

"The Xaela? I saw him drink something before battle, watched his veins go black before he keeled over a table, started biting the edge like he was going mad... Awful fucker. Then he DID go mad in the Battle for Ala Mhigo, slaughtered everyone unlucky enough to be seen on that street; Resistance and Imperial alike..." — Ala Mhigan courier in Rhalgr's Reach

Current Residence
Shirogane, Ward 18, Kobai Goten Apartments (OOC)

Background (WIP)

Separated from his tribe as a boy by bloody tribal conflict, everything Arozand knew was burned to ash by the fires of war. The family of Oronir was split in half by an invasion of Dotharl, leaving a daughter and father parted from Arozand and Tumun. All that remained were the threads on his back and a loving mother that would see to his survival, Khaidu having sacrificed himself for the lives of his loved ones. The mother and son traveled alone for years until they settled where they could among the Raen and other races living in the Far East. She was plagued by winter sickness and for all the skills of survival he had learned from the huntress, none would save her in time. Neither could they afford the services of a healer, nor would any in their right mind offer thankless aid to two black-scaled Xaela from the Steppes.

He fought, schemed, and toiled through the cities and settlements they crossed to earn whatever coin might pay for her life, through whatever means necessary. The blood of his father, both sacrificed and surging through his veins pushed him through poverty as he honed what he knew and quickly learned what he didn’t.

Tragedy came for him all too soon, his mother breathing her final raspy breath and with it the foundation of everything he had worked for. The world came crashing down on the adolescent Xaela, glistening sadness wetting the black scales of his face as he knelt over the last shred of love in his life. With no one left and nothing to live for, Arozand took to the wilds and used what he knew to make it through one day after the next while exploiting any opportunity he could. Most called him a demon for his wild temper and black scales, the adolescent earning the titles of 'thief', 'cutpurse', and 'highwayman' well enough to warrant a streak of infamy. Originally sent to eliminate the black-scaled, golden-eyed imp of the forest, a wayward woman of the blade entered his woodland meadow and came upon a scene unlike any other. A wild wolverine, or gulo gulo as the locals called it was hot on the chase of Arozand's tail. With a singing sweep of her blade, the Hingan ronin felled the beast as it was skewered atop Arozand's makeshift spear. The two eventually formed a bond after Arozand's would-be mentor realized he was no demon, but a lone Xaela cast aside with his scraps and loot. She was an exile who saw fit to teach him the ways of honor, fists, and the blade. Arozand excelled as if he were born for martial skill as his will of fire coursed with unyielding strength through his hot blood.

The monster huntress and her teachings did not come without a price, however, as a child with nowhere to go was an ideal subject both for the indoctrination and uniquely unnatural trials she offered. The art of consuming a creature's aether, especially that of prey was the foundation of his new sensei's craft and path. Little did Arozand know how the next many years would change him or of the ravenous fate that lied ahead. None of that mattered so long as he could live with a full belly every night and the grit of kenjutsu along with other forms of martial combat to iron his will into the perfect weapon. With great struggle, he drank deep of every drop of knowledge his sensei had to offer. Arozand learned to kill just as easily as he learned to live, youthful naivete blinding him to the mirror image he was becoming as a student to his master. For all intents and purposes, she became the only mother he had left and nothing could dissuade him from the love that he developed for her especially in the face of danger. Arozand dedicated his life to be the shield for hers and would stop at no reservation or hesitation to protect her. He could not lose anyone else and he refused to suffer the pain of that loss ever again lest it consume him with madness.

The young xaela's training began with the likes of imps and lesser yokai, creature of mischief that caused the possessions of villagers and lords alike to go missing. These were his missions and he carried them out with utmost conviction no matter how trivial, never forgetting to follow through with his sensei's teachings. He devoured every last one of the little monsters, their aether at least and only until they were dried up husks of whatever they had been. This destruction and avarice towards supernatural life exacted a heavy toll on his mind but sent his body through chaotic and ultimately powerful changes. His eyes began to glow in the night, burning in the darkness like a beast's under a spotlight and allowed him to see through the shadows of night no matter how far the moon fled. Arozand's weight and height nearly grew at a rate he could not control, often waking up to being too large for his sleeping space. His teeth began falling out, quickly replaced by shooting pains of fangs jutting out from his gums only for him to bite down onto a suddenly enlarged and indigo tongue while gorging on his supper. His scales and horns grew sturdier and harder, the former beginning to curve upwards and over his head while the latter took on shades of copper and gold among the obsidian patterns embedded into his skin. Sensory sensitivity heightened as well, hearing and smell surpassing even that of a wolf while his agility and strength nearly doubled within a cycle of moons.

By the time he was fourteen, he looked a man but ever with the youthful gaze of a child. Villagers and lords alike ogled at the freak of nature before them as he and his sensei passed through towns and the famous halls of Doman and Hingan nobles, but never without coin in their pockets at the end of the day. Arozand had just contended with a tengu and lost the battle, returning to camp with a broken arm and covered both in his blood and that of the prey he sought. Bones of iron had splintered in multiple places, no matter how tough they were and the same went for his tattered skin and missing scales which oozed blood without signs of staunching. Yet even as he licked his wounds, dreamed, and healed his mind was wracked with visions of hunger and his sleep was rife with restlessness. The roar of attacking creatures and their soon to follow death throes echoed through his young mind, apparitions of gore and gnashing teeth waking him in the middle of the night to ringing horns and a cold sweat. Arozand could only assume this was the painful path to greatness and ultimate power.

Two years came and went, Arozand now sixteen and even larger than he had been. He was not welcome in the mainland of Hingashi and his sensei left him in Kugane while she tended to business. It was the first time he had been without her since they met and the bustling Hingan city was far too strange to slake his curiosity. Whether or not it was a test of character, Arozand could not know but nothing would keep him from diving horns-first into the years of independence that stretched out before him, or so he thought.

Soon his misdeeds caught up with him, as did the drinking and gambling with all the debts he owed after becoming a man of his own. His mentor, even with her eminent skill, could not avoid what honor called her to do as she gave her life to ensure that he would live. Everywhere he looked was now closed off by the reality of a blade to the neck and a missing head. Still young and spry, he set his gaze to the west and crossed the seas to Eorzea with hope for a new life in Ul’dah and the other great nations. Arozand was a vagabond if anything, and the struggle towards a new frontier was the least of his woes.

A place in the Immortal Flames came to be his saving grace, the pillars of this new community keeping him out of trouble for the most part. He began to look up to the great General Raubahn Aldynn as a local hero and a figure of influence. Though a mere lowly private, Arozand took to the blade and frontier as he struck out a living within the Free Brigade and took what he deserved while giving his service to Ul'dah and the wealthy state he knew it was. Yet this was no new leaf or sudden revolution in his life, his vices of gambling and lustful indulgence keeping up with every turn he made. He spent his pay on himself and what he wanted, driven to earn more and more for the sake of himself despite the homeless slums that only seemed to bloat.

For all his skill, his potential was sullied in the eyes of his superiors by his recklessness and lack of care for anyone but himself. Being part of a team meant that he would usurp its leadership or vanish on his own particular mission that he believed would bring victory and reward regardless of what his comrades saw fit. Thus, he was assigned to solitary special operations assignments that would maximize his efficiency as a single unit with only an agent to provide contact and information for what work he desired. It proved a resounding success, Arozand becoming responsible for the assassination of prime enemy targets across Eorzea as well as preventing numerous hostile attacks across many Alliance outposts and trade routes.

Even then, he craved more. His life had shown him his fair share of Garlean tyranny, news of Doma's failed rebellion reigniting his hatred for the Empire as well as recent events involving the XIVth Legion and the Ultima Weapon. He was convinced that Garlemald wanted nothing more than to stoke the fires of war and make the world their castrum from its black ashes. He sought out a resistance movement led by a Hingan lord, despite his poor standing with the country. Lord Yahata Ryuga would show him the way to rebellion, and he found their noble house with the help of a fledgling slave named Kamome Greywing. The young girl was headed exactly where he was and she guided him to her patron's estate where Arozand would come to forge bonds that he would never forget.


(Format credit goes to Red Beast. Thank you for the excellent layout.)